The Chang Dynasty
by Mikhal
Summary: My first good idea for a GW story. Many years after the g-boys have passed away, the evil usurper to the throne of China, Chang Lo Kai, rules the earth and colonies with an iron fist. Now a group of revolutuionaries are on a mission to release Lo Kai's br
1. Default Chapter

The sound of automatic rifles drowned out any plea for mercy from the dying people in the street. A light rain was falling, and the water ran down into the sewer streaked with crimson.

The firing stopped abruptly and the soldiers lowered their weapons, but their fingers remained poised on the triggers, ready to fire again.

A man raised his hand, accompanied by a pitiful moan. The soldier nearest him cocked his rifle and opened up, emptying half his clip in the man's back.

The Sergeant in command had a pistol in his hands, a fresh clip locked in. He heard the sound of an infant crying and whipped around, firing three deft shots to silence the baby.

The sickening stench of rotting flesh reached the nostrils of the soldiers. One of them gagged reflexively, but none showed any remorse at what they had done.

"Sergeant, command here," the Sergeant picked up the radio on his belt, "Roger command, Tango squad here. Mission completed, we're heading to the Academy-Woodmen intersection."

There was a slight hesitation the reply, "Copy that. Move with caution. Reports of resistance against Valkyrie squad were reported last night.

"Roger that, over and out. See you back at base in an hour."

"Down! GET DOWN!" The Sergeant screamed as bullets pounded around them. 

A soldier cried out as a bullet connected with his shoulder. He reached for it but jerked his hands to his throat and another round sliced his windpipe in half.

As the man went down, the two ends of his throat closing and opening in a vain attempt for air, the Sergeant ordered his men to seek refuge in an old warehouse. 

The squad neared the entry when their murderers descended upon them.

A quartet of men in black uniforms leapt from the second story, landing deftly on the concrete and immediately pressing the attack.

The lead on fired his 9mm casually, as if he killed men for a living, which he did.

Five bullets ravaged the gut of one soldier. As stomach acid and other bodily materials poured from the gaping hole in his middle, the lead man pulled out a viscous looking knife, about 8 inches long with a keen edge.

The other three shrouded fighters did likewise.

The Sergeant's gun clattered from his cold fingers, blood spurting from an expert cut to both his jugular arteries. The other assassins moved in, twirling their knives easily and stabbing at the soldiers.

One maneuvered him so his victim's back faced him, and stabbed his knife upward between the third and fourth ribs. As the lung collapsed, the man tried to cry out but to no avail.

The one that appeared to be the strongest had a huge knife, like a machete. He grabbed a young soldier by the scruff of his neck and lifted him a foot off the ground. He brought the knife back and drove it into the man's skull with all his strength.

As gray mattered ran down the man's face, the dark warrior removed his knife and plunged it deep into the man's chest. As the cartilage in his sternum cracked and snapped, he twisted the knife cruelly and levered and entire chuck of muscle out of the man's body. Blood gushed from the wound, pooling at the man's feet instantly.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled around, muscle tissue flying off his knife. The man raised it to strike but lowered his hand to see the leader of the quartet of assassins. "Our work is done," he whispered, turning to leave.

"In the black of the next night, the Chang dynasty shall feel the bite of the Wolf once more."


	2. The First Hell

The First Hell ****

The First Hell

"Who dares enter the domain of Yen-Lo-Wang, King of the Nine Hells?!" the synthesized voice boomed through the corridor.

"I am Renard Thornblade, sworn enemy of the honorless dog Chang Lo Kai, loyal servant to the true ruler of China, Chang Wufei II!"

"Enter then, the realm of Yen-Lo-Wang, enter the Nine Hells to meet your fate!"

The door swung open with a gust of wind. As the 'voice' of Yen-Lo-Wang faded away, Renard walked slowly, his right pinky swaying with the movement of his body.

He turned to enter a huge chamber, light with hundreds of candles, casting a dull glow over the stone labyrinth.

Renard Thornblade walked up to the man in front of him, an elderly man with a stubbled gray beard on his chin.

He narrowed his eyes, "Who are you, you do not have clearance here!"

Renard smirked, "Yen-Lo-Wang granted me entrance. From what I have heard, your computer system has a mind of its own."

The man snarled but it quickly changed to a broad grin as Renard drew away half of his kimono to reveal the tattoo on his chest. "I am Renard Thornblade, yakuza lord of the Americas. I come to serve the Wolf."

As Renard tied the sash on his kimono, the old man nodded, "You do not look Japanese," he stated, noting Renard's brown hair and eyes.

"Nor do you look Chinese," he said with a smile.

The man grinned again, his green eyes sparkling, "Too true, Thornblade-sama."

He motioned to the two small bowls filled with a clear liquid in front of him, "Please drink, Thornblade-sama," he said genuinely.

Renard eyed him suspiciously, staring hard at each of the bowls. He grinned after surveying the right bowl. Without hesitation he plucked it up and took a long draft of it, sucking down the strong sake easily.

His eyes wide, the old man shook his head, "I thought a yakuza was cleverer than that.

"Cleverer than you, old man. Your poison is too obvious, and I have built up immunity to nearly fifty neuro and hemo toxins. I do not doubt that Chang Lo Kai has done the same. He is a tyrannical greedy bastard, but he is no fool."

The man nodded, "Rarely does fate allows a foolish enemy."

Renard grunted in agreement, "More often foolish minions," he said, glancing to the black garbed assassins that seemed to melt with the shadows.

The old man snorted, "Bah! They are the best men ever, skilled at seeing without being seen, killing without being killed."

"Then explain to me why the last job was so sloppily done?"

The old man grimaced at the thought. A team had struck at a squad of Chang's SS Troopers, killing all of them without a trace, or so they thought.

Days later the killers were traced and managed to escape with the loss of two. Whether they had been captured or killed was unbeknownst to the man or his colleagues.

"It brings much shame to the Wolf to fail in its hunt. . ."

"Then I shall have to change that, give me ten of your best assassins, I want a pair of shuttles booked to take all of us the LaGrange 2. Put 5 on one and 5 on the other, I'll accompany one of them.

"After you've got these warriors chosen, pair them with another that is a higher skill level so they can compensate for one anothers weaknesses and strengths, I want very few guns, only a few skilled snipers, make sure they have silencers."

The man raised his eyebrows, "You ask much, how long do I have to gather these resources?"

Renard shrugged, "As long as the heir the Chang Lo Kai's throne is in the L2 area."

His eyes went as wide as saucers, "The heir to the throne?! Surely such a bold act is foolhardy! He is to well guarded to kill!"

"I do not intend to kill him," he said.

The old man let out a sigh of relief.

"Yet," Renard hissed demonically.

"Katsuhiro, this is Renard, we've got several shady characters at your six, keep an eye on them.'

Katsuhiro casually turned around. Immediately the three men at the bar ceased looking at him and feigned a conversation, making hand gestures as if discussing sports.

He reached into his jacket, pulling the hammer back on his pistol. He pulled out a handkerchief and pretended to blow his nose.

Renard nodded from his perch, then stole a glance at the sniper across the rafters.

The man, Murasame, came from America and had received training in the Army Ranger program as a sniper. His rifle rested across his knees. He had a bullet balanced on his finger. Renard snickered, the boy is always practicing.

"Murasame!"

"Yes?" he replied, continuing to balance the shell on his fingertip.

"Get ready, the prince should be making his entrance very soon."

Murasame nodded and stuffed the bullet in his pocket, grabbing his rifle and shouldering the weapon, making some quick adjustments to the scope.

He stuffed a clip of five rounds in and drew his sword, laying on the rafter beside him.

"Katsuhiro, do you have your silencer?"

"Affirmative."

"Good, take the bodyguard at the front of the procession, Murasame take the one in the back, then work your way down the light. I'll signal the rest of the team when its clear, understood?"

"Roger that," Katsuhiro said.

"Yes sir," Murasame said in a serious tone.

Everyone rose as the prince entered, surrounded by bodyguards with heavy pistols concealed inside their jackets.

"Wait until the reach the central area."

As the entourage approached the elaborate mosaic in the center of the floor, Murasame raised his rifle and Katsuhiro reached into his jacket.

"Now!" he yelled into his radio.

Murasame fired, knocking the rear guard back with an expert shot to his skull.

Before the guards could bring out their weapons Katsuhiro opened fire with his pistol taking two down before they even noticed he was there.

He emptied out his clip on two others as Murasame took aim and fired, the round taking a bodyguard in the gut.

Katsuhiro tossed his gun in the air and caught it on the barrel, then hurled it expertly at the wounded man. The gun struck his head with a crack, and Katsuhiro quickly drew his knife from his jacket, rushing the man and grabbing the collar of his jacket to steady himself.

With a sickening gurgle the man fell to the ground, his hands clutched at his throat, blood pouring onto the floor.

Katsuhiro ducked as a man took a swing at him. He came up from his crouch and drove the knife into the bodyguard's chest.

Sanguine liquid ran over the hilt and into Katsuhiro's hand. He drew forth the blade and held it reversed in his hand, twirling around with it and raking the blade across the abdomen of one man, stabbing it into the lung of another.

Murasame squeezed the trigger and the bullet skipped off a column, ricocheting into a guest's leg.

"Damn," he muttered automatically, the miss unfazing him as he pulled the bolt on his gun back and aimed once more.

This time he found his mark, the hollowed lead bullets collapsing as they hit, blowing huge holes in the man's head.

As gray substance and a yellowish fluid oozed from what remained of the bodyguard's skull, Murasame ejected his clip and rummaged through his sack in search of his mercury filled rounds.

The bullets had some liquid mercury in them, so that when the bullet penetrate, the mercury would burst and send tiny pieces of shrapnel throughout the area, increasing the chances of a kill.

He thrust the deadly package into his rifle and locked in the first round, centering his crosshairs on one of the three figures at the bar. His keen eyes detected the small bulge in their jackets. _Pistols_.

Murasame raised his aim to the man's head, his finger tightening around the trigger of his sniper rifle. His shoulder tugged as the rifle recoiled. The bullet smacked into the man's head, the mercury blew up the bullet, tearing apart his brain.

The quick silver splattered on the floor along with gray matter.

He cocked his rifle as Katsuhiro moved in for the kill, the bloodstained knife flashing in the light.

Katsuhiro sucked the life out of one man with several well-placed stabs, but before he could continue, the final man whipped out his pistol.

A stalemate ensued, with Murasame aiming carefully for the man's throat. For the first time in his life the expert sniper was nervous.

If he did not kill the man with one shot Katsuhiro was done for.

Katsuhiro tensed his hold on the knife, curling into a defensive position. 

Sucking in a deep breath to steady his aim, Murasame fired.

The bullet passed straight through the man's throat, snapping his spinal cord and killing him instaneously.

Murasame let out his breath, shouldering his sack of ammo and leaping from the rafters.

Katsuhiro chuckled. _Old bastard, he was nearly killed! _Murasame thought, not really caring about his comrade, more shocked at his carefree attitude.

They turned their attention to the prince, whose face was extremely pale. Murasame had heard that he was good in a Mobile Suit, but the scene of carnage seemed to have completely unnerved him.

Renard dropped from his perch, his jacket was unbuttoned to reveal the tattoo on his chest. The yakuza lord grabbed the prince by his neck, speaking slowly into his wrist communicator, "Is the area clear?"

A static hiss filled the earpiece before the other man replied, "Affirmative, we took out several bodyguards and combed the area twice for snipers, nothing."

Renard nodded his approval, shoving the prince forward, "Move whelp, we are running a strict timetable."

Katsuhiro, seeking to dramatize the situation, threw the twin oak doors open with a flourish, his obsidian eyes scanning over the crowd. Black garbed operatives of the Wolf had their guns trained on the crowd, and another sniper lurked on the rooftop, ready to kill at the drop of a hat.

When Renard shoved the prince forward rather roughly, a man called out, "How dare you shame the son of Chang Lo Kai!"

Before anyone could answer, Murasame put forth a stunning reply with a rather eloquent speaker, a friend of his.

As the man toppled over, mercury bubbling where his head should have been, the crowd shied back a few meters.

"All enemies of the Wolf die," Murasame whispered, barely audible.

Renard tossed the prince like a rag doll into the waiting limo, the Wolf assassins warily filing into the less luxurious Hum-Vee.

Katsuhiro climbed up the hatch at the top of the Hummer, taking control of the .50 caliber chain gun, swiveling it about menacingly.

The drive gunned the motor, gratefully snatching off his ski mask as they left the throng that had gathered to witness the kidnapping of Chang Sun-Tzu.

"You damned fool!" yelled Katsuhiro, his eyes focusing on Murasame angrily, "You killed a civilian! You are no better than Chang's men!"

Murasame whipped his head around and stared hard at Katsuhiro, "He defied the Wolf, he sealed his own death."

Katsuhiro scoffed, "Right!" he muttered sarcastically, "you now what the master ordered, kill only the soldiers!"

Murasame shrugged at his companion, his rifle resting casually across his knees.

Katsuhiro rolled his eyes, "Renard will have you ass for this."

Murasame stared out the window, his voice devoid of feeling, "That yakuza bastard can burn in hell."

A/n:Eeech this is developing bad. Also, the line that says, his right pinky swaying with his movements blah blah blah, is a symbol of a yakuza. They removed all the knuckles in their small fingers to show their loyalty(don't blame ME if I'm wrong, I'm not Japanese ;)). Plz r/r, I need feedback on this!


	3. The Council

****

The Council

Nurame Kaga, leader of the Wolf, sat cross-legged on the dirt, the orange flames dancing in front of him. A break in the tongues of fire revealed Leo Posavatz. 

The young leader of the Shark had a jagged scar on his right cheek, and his hair was cut short, less than a centimeter, to make the rigors of living fathoms beneath the ocean's surface slightly more bearable.

To Nurame's right was Helmut Boer, an Afrikaner, the descendants of the Boer guerilla warriors, leader of the Cobra.

Slightly apart from the group sat Miro Sirkonov, his face shrouded in a balaclava, a poisoned dart gun hidden beneath his tight fitting jump suit.

Nurame stroked his white beard, "A great dilemma has delayed our military advance, what is your explanation, Leo?"

The Russian man put a sour look on his face and sub-consciously traced over the scar with his fingers, "The enemy coastal guards have been watching the area, I suspect a recon submersible on routine patrol spotted the base and reported it."

Miro shook his head slowly and spoke, "The enemy does not patrol those waters, there was an information leak, and I can assure you that the Bat shall seek out the traitor before anymore harm can come to your operations."

"How can I trust a dishonorable spy, Miro?" Leo sneered back.

"Silence! Any arguing between us is pointless, the matter at hand is that the enemy knows of the presence of the Shark in the Atlantic. This is not acceptable."

Nurame turned to Leo, "Can your mobile suits punch a hole through the coastal guards lines and escape?"

Leo sighed, "It is difficult to say, but at most I can get at the most, say, five regiments out, with minimal damage. Perhaps more could escape and break the enemy lines, but they would suffer casualties that I cannot afford."

Nurame nodded, "Five regiments is plenty. Miro, can you and Helmut do a joint op and cripple some of the guard MS's, perhaps a squadron at least?"

Miro looked at Helmut and seemed to study him carefully. Then he turned to Nurame, his grayish eyes giving him an eerie appearance, "Yes."

"Very good. Contact me after you have weakened the enemy lines and my second in command shall deploy the 55th Sohei."

"The Sohei?" Leo asked in surprise, "Perhaps a more elite unit is preferable, such as the White Fangs?"

"The Sohei are not the cream of the crop, but they are the most fanatical warriors in the Wolf, hence the name."

"Yes, yes I know that Nurame, the Sohei were a sect of warrior monks in Japan during the Sengoku Jidai period. I do not spend my free time studying troop movements, you know."

Nurame smiled slightly before Leo continued, "A fanatical unit simply may not get the job done. The Sohei's once perfect record was tainted at the skirmish of the Caspian Sea. Sohei warriors went berserk in the midst of a fierce and decisive small battle, causing many losses to our side. Should the same event replay itself, many warriors of the Shark and the Wolf will be lost."

Nurame raised his hand, "My order stands, the Sohei will assist you Leo, I have need for the White Fangs elsewhere, a much more important operation where their skill and self-restraint will be needed."

Leo nodded slowly, "All right then."

Miro stood, silently as always, his evasion skills so honed that he instinctively moved noiselessly. 

"I must go. Helmut, I shall contact you when I get back to the cave of the Bat."

"Ja, Herr Sirkonov," Helmut replied, his accent thick.

Miro bowed his head to the group and then retreated into the darkness, his footsteps making no sound.

Leo turned his head to face Nurame, "How is the operation to kidnap Chang Sun-Tzu progressing?"

The old man shrugged, squinting into the fire as if searching for something, "I have received no information from the team, but if they are keeping to the schedule, Chang Sun-Tzu ought to be in the possession of the Wolf."

"But they are not out of the woods yet," Helmut piped up, "the Black Telsons are stationed in the area, and unless at least four of them can reach the MS cache we have there, many, many warriors of the Wolf will die."

"Yes, the Black Telsons are the best Chang Lo Kai's army has to offer. Elite pilots in the best suits ever designed. Reminiscent to the gundam pilots many years ago. . ."

"Do not be fooled by their skill," Leo said, crossing his arms over his barrel like chest, "they have been trained to fight Mobile Suit to Mobile Suit. A quick and nimble opponent on the ground will be a greater nuisance than an entire regiment to them."

"Damn!" cursed the Wolf manning the radar in the Hummer. "What?" Katsuhiro demanded, jumping down from his perch to look at the display.

The sweeping arm passed over the upper area, six dots flashed. "MS?" Katsuhiro asked.

With a gulp the man replied, "Oh yeah."

Sighing Katsuhiro leapt back up and manned the .50 caliber. _I'm getting to old for this_, he though as the dots on the horizon grew bigger by the second.

Tai-i(captain) Tadamune Uesugi clicked on his commlink with the other five warriors in his wing of MS's. "The limo has the prince, do not fire upon it! The Hummer has a .50 cal gun on its top with 360 degree firing arc. It may not be much but don't take any chances. Aim carefully and if you have too, move in close and use your beam sabers."

The MS's piloted by Tadamune and his men were known as Montezumas, a state of the art weapons platform designed only three years ago.

It was armed with two hard hitting weapons, the plasma cannon and the concussion mortar. The plasma cannon had to charge to reach its full capacity, but it could be fired in short burst and still do moderate damage. A fully charged plasma shot could rip a hold through four- foot thick armor plates.

The concussion mortar was the more powerful of the two, but many pilots felt the delivery time and long reload delay hampered the weapon, making it ineffective. Rigorous training was the only way to use the concussion mortar effectively. An ace pilot could decimate an entire base in seconds with several well-placed shots with the mortar.

Tadamune squeezed down on the fire control joystick and he heard the whine of the plasma cannon charging. He adjusted a dial to make the cannon cease charging at 75%. Higher charges effected the projectiles speed and range.

He lowered the crosshairs onto the Hummer, then adjusted his aim so that the reticule trailed a few yards ahead of the target. The display projected onto his helmet's visor flashed a message, PLAS CANNON AT 75%.

The cannon spat out a slag of molten plasma, ripping through the air at 2000 feet per second.

Black asphalt showered up as the shot dug a crater into the surface of the road, a glowing gold ball pulsated for a second before cooling.

Tadamune held down the trigger to begin charging as his wingmen fired their own shots. All of them hit the road except one. A stray shot sheared through a lamppost. The metal structure toppled onto the sidewalk, sparks showering from the broken wire.

Before Tadamune could fully charge his cannon, a white finger of smoke shot out from the rear of the Hummer. The MS to his right suddenly dropped, bouncing over the black top several times, smoke pouring out of its cockpit.

He released the trigger and a plasma shot burst from the muzzle of the cannon, missing the Hummer by a long shot, "Flight, break off! Break off! They've got some sort of rocket launchers!"

Another missile streaked past a Montezuma, narrowly missing the MS.

As his men broke off, Tadamune pushed his Montezuma into a dive, pulling off at the last second. A trio of rockets leapt from the Hummer, zipping past Tadamune and into three more mobile suits of his charge.

"Tai-i, break off! What the hell are you doing?!" Tadamune broke his commlink with his wing and adjusted the dial on his plasma cannon to 100%. _They're close enough, I can get them at this range._

As the meter ticked off 98% on the charge, the Hummer suddenly took a sharp right into a narrow alleyway.

Tadamune slammed on the brakes as followed. He heard the armor on his MS's arms being scraped away as it bounced back on forth between the two building.

His grip on the trigger loosened and the plasma cannon unleashed a burning round.

Murasame averted his eyes as the enemy Montezuma's plasma shot went astray and hit the wall, tearing deep and shooting out a column of fire.

He grabbed the last rocket launcher from the bin under the seat and shouldered the weapon. _Not exactly sniping, but close enough_.

The Montezuma surged out from the roiling blaze, a small shot charged in its plas cannon.

Murasame squeezed down on the trigger and the rocket launched from the tube, a white streak of smoke trailing the projectile.

Tai-i Date Tadamune grunted as the force of the rocket forced him back into his seat. Somehow he had survived the direct hit on his mobile suit's cockpit, but all the armor plating was shredded from the vital area. His Montezuma twisted in mid air so it was facing away from the escaping enemy.

Smoke leaked from the cockpit. As the thick haze cleared and Tadamune ceased coughing, he checked the damage display. It flickered and interference crackled over the small monitor. He the de-gausser and the magnetism vanished, but the screen was still difficult to make out. After studying it for a moment, he learned that his Montezuma was totally inoperable.

Tadamune pounded the armrest and cursed his enemies with every word he knew.

"Chu-i(Lieutenant)! They got Tadamune!" yelled an excited pilot over the comm.

"Damn! Group, break off and return to base, I'm going to kill those bastards!"

Chu-i Mark Adams throttled his Montezuma and armed his concussion mortar. Carefully he took aim at the speedy Hummer. It had turned back onto the main road and was trailing after the speed limo.

As his reticule flashed he stabbed down on the pick button. 

The boom of the concussion mortar shook the Hummer. Katsuhiro swore as he heard the high pitched whistle of the approaching shell.

He kicked the door out, arming himself with a rifle. Before he could leap out though, the shell slammed into the center of the Hummer, tearing the thick metal hide apart like paper.

In an instant the vehicle was converted into a roaring inferno. Katsuhiro threw Murasame out, the younger man clung to his beloved sniper rifle as he stumbled away from the burning wreck.

The huge warrior jumped clear of the Hummer as the Montezuma assault mobile suit screamed over head.

Five others moved clear of the shell of the Hummer. Katsuhiro motioned for them to head down the alley. He heard a moan come from the Hummer. He hesitated a second then took a few steps towards the Hummer.

A man crawled out, his back aflame. He fell onto the asphalt and raised his hand, his mouth moving as if he was trying to speak.

Katsuhiro shook his head and backed away as the man collapsed. The stench of charred flesh filled Katsuhiro's nostrils as he turned and left the scene.

"All right, does everyone understand the plan?" Renard asked. The eight surviving members of the Wolf nodded, Katsuhiro and Murasame more slowly than the others.

As Renard and the other Wolves left, Murasame turned to Katsuhiro, "Why do we get assigned to watch this whelp?" he asked indignantly, motioning to the prince.

Katsuhiro shrugged, his face no expressing the feeling of annoyance he felt, "No time to complain, let's just get out of here, I'm sure that the local CHMS(Chang Hegemony Military Service)leaders has dispatched an infantry squad to search for us."

Renard swung himself up over the ledge, crouching low so that only the top half of his head peeked over the building. He was high above the city street, and only years of conditioning himself kept him from succumbing to acrophobia.

Content that the area was clear, Renard vaulted onto the rampart and took a deep breath. The yakuza lord mustered all the courage he had ever had and leaped out into the empty space.

He landed squarely on the building. Sighing with relief. His left eye twitched as something red and bright penetrated the corner. It took him a nanosecond to realize what it was.

He dove for cover as the bullet zipped over head, chunks of concrete spraying as it hit the ground a few feet behind him.

_Sniper, damn!_

The red laser dot appeared on his hand and Renard rolled out of the way as a round zinged into the concrete.

He saw a flash of urban camo as the attacker quickly changed his position. _He's good too!_

The sight appeared again, this time above Renard. He stayed low and moved to the left, but this is what the sniper had expected him to do.

Renard yelped as the bullet passed straight through his upper arm. A crimson spot appeared on the ground where the bullet ricocheted.

_Out of bullets, good!_

Renard scrambled for the door and kicked it off its hinges, barreling down the stairs two at a time. His mind raced as he heard the sound of a helicopter rotor.

There was a zip and a thud like combat boots touching down. Renard heard a deep voice echoing through the corridor. 

"Squad, let's move out!"

Renard put on a burst of speed, skidding to a halt a T-shaped intersection. He sprinted down the new hall, latching onto a door- frame and groping for the handle.

"There he is, get him!" bullets saturated the area as the infantry squad opened up with their German built MP5 sub-machine guns.

Renard stumbled into the dark room, locking the door behind him. He heard the squad leader pounding on it and shouting to his men. "Go-cho(Corporal) get an entry explosive on here!"

The young Go-cho efficiently rigged up the explosive, and stepped back and triggered it. 

As the wood splintered, the squad leader moved forward, his MP5 raised and his finger around the trigger.

A yellowish light flashed in the darkness of the room. A metallic fist broke through the wall and came flying at the squad. "Holy shiiiiittttt!" cried out the Go-cho as the Montezuma plastered what was left of the men against the opposite wall.


	4. Confusion

****

Confusion

"Tai-i Uesugi! Are you there?" Mark Adams' voice blared through

the external speakers on his Montezuma.

Tai-i Tadamune Uesugi emerged from the cockpit, his face covered his soot and his mouth dry. When he saw his leader, Mark raised his mobile suit's hand in salute and Tadamune returned the gesture.

As Chu-i Mark Adams' cockpit slid open, Tadamune advanced. The junior officer was covered in sweat, his flight suit soaked through completely. _They must have panicked when I broke off. Or the heat controllers in their mobile suits are broken or malfunctioning…_

Knowing Mark, Tadamune believed the latter to be true. "What happened?" Tadamune asked.

Mark motioned towards the street, "I got the enemy Hummer on the street. Some of the rebels escaped but they've dispatched infantry to take them out."

Tadamune nodded and noticed Mark fidgeting with the silver band on his third finger. "Excellent work Chu-i. That kill as well as your time of service here may well allow you for a few weeks of leave."

Mark grinned from ear to ear, "Thank you, sir."

He nodded as he walked towards the military truck that was pulling up to take him back to HQ to be debriefed. "Put in your request as soon as possible. But you will be on call, you may be needed at any moment, so be ready."

The grin did not change as Mark saluted Tadamune, "Thanks again, Tai-I!" he practically shouted.

Tadamune returned the salute and turned sharply on his heel, heading for the truck were a pair of armed guards waited to take him to his 'debriefing'.

"But dad!" Quasim Winner cried out in annoyance at his father, who stood pacing about in front of him.

"No, for the third time, NO. You can't join the resistance, it's to dangerous."

Quasim sighed in exasperation, waving a sheet of paper in front of his father, "But look, the Shark wants me in their group, they know that I'm good in an MS and they want me in on the action. I can't turn my back on this dad! We could end the Hegemony aggression and lift the tariffs that have been hampering you!"

Quasim thought he saw his father perk up a little, but the man quickly hid his expression and put a scowl on his face, "No, I will not have the heir to the Winner fortune become a radical terrorist against the Hegemony."

The young man exploded suddenly, "God dammit I don't want to be the heir to the corporation! I don't know a damn thing about running it. All my life I've wanted to be a MS pilot, and I am and always will. I and will never, never be some stuffy corporate executive that sits behind a damned desk all day!"

The older man's eyes became large, "You disgraceful brat! No son of mine would say such a thing!"

Quasim felt no love for his father, only hatred that he had kept inside him for seventeen years. Shaking his head slowly, he uttered, "Go to hell, President Winner."

He said the word president as if it stung his lips to speak it, and without any final gesture he turned and stalked away from his father, vowing to never return.

Quasim's snoring was interrupted by a pounding on the hatch of his MS. The Saracen assault suit was gargantuan and armed to the teeth. The weapons system was so complex that is required two people to man it, one pilot, and the other manning the radio guided missile systems and monitoring the radar and operating the extensive jamming equipment.

He shook his head vigorously to clear it and opened the hatch.

A tall young woman entered, wearing the same red and black, tight fitting jump suit that Quasim did. The only difference was the stylized patch of the Maganac Corps on Quasim's suit was ripped off, a patch sewn onto the jagged rip.

"Something wrong, Quasim?" she asked.

The blonde haired pilot snorted, "Does it look like something is wrong?" he answered sarcastically.

A small smile creeped over her features, "You did a pretty lousy job on that sewing," she pointed out, motioning to his shoulder.

Quasim shrugged and a few threads popped free. He tried to remain serious but he broke into a grin, "Dammit Cassandra I can never keep as straight face around you."

Cassandra Fletcher smirked and leaned against the doorframe of the Saracen's hatch, "So what's up?" she asked, pointing towards where the Maganac symbol had once graced Quasim's shoulder.

Quasim shrugged again, trying to make light of the situation, "I told my father that I didn't want to be the heir of the Corporation."

Her jaw dropped, "You didn't."

"I did, dammit!" Quasim snapped and he saw hurt flash through her eyes. Quasim had never lashed out at her, or anyone else as far as she knew, before.

"Sorry, but I've been pretty testy lately, trying to get my dad to let me join the resistance and all. He wouldn't let me so I ran away."

"You don't expect me to come with you, do you?" she asked hesitantly.

Quasim nodded, "Well, yeah."

Cassandra chuckled, "Why?"

"Because you're my friend and you hate the Hegemony as much as I do."

She shook her head. _It's more than that Quasim._

She brushed a wisp of dark brown hair away and her green eyes sparkled, "Okay then, where do we start?"

Quasim sighed, "Thanks Sandra, thanks a lot."

Cassandra sat in the chair behind and to his right, swiveling it so she could access the controls on the mapping system. "So where to?" she repeated, keying in a map of the earth.

"Head for the south Pacific, the Shark's base is there, and tell the computer to notify me when we are five kilometers from the base, the Hegemony has troops guarding it."

"Yes sir!" she replied with mock seriousness, addressing him with the term that he hated.

He shook his head. However hard he tried he could not get angry at the beautiful woman, "Shut up Sandra," he replied in an unconvincing tone.

Leo Posavatz held the controls of his MS tightly. The primary mobile suits of the Shark, the Sea Wolf, was a medium sized suit armed with both land and sea weaponry.

Housed in the boxy shoulders were torpedoes, fifty of them, designed to take out enemy flag ships. Its left arm ended in the muzzle of the Omni Environmental Weapon. The OEW was a powerful rifle that could function in any environment, from the blistering Sahara desert to the vacuum of outer space.

He adjusted the chinstrap of his helmet and then clicked down the visor. As the targeting reticule flashed in the center of his viewplate, Leo, flicked a series of switches that started the reactor running.

As the Sea Wolf rose, the ocean swirling about it, the hundreds of other mobile suits did the same. Sand rose in thick clouds as the legions of MS's pounded a few steps forward. As the dust settled Leo opened the commlink to all the warriors, "Leo here, prepare to break the surf-" his command was cut off as his Sea Wolf was shook by the pounding vibrations of suits diving below the water.

_Damn, the coastal guards are attacking!_

"Fall back! Defensive positions, all troops fall back!" he yelled as laser fire raked through the watery battlefield.

Next to him a golden laser beam sliced into another Sea Wolf, separating the suit's torso from its legs.

Leo turned and crouched his Sea Wolf, laser fire raining down on the Shark formations. On his display brackets surrounded five enemy suits, and the message TORPEDOE LOCK flashed on the right half of his viewplate.

He hit the two buttons with his thumb and his MS was carried backward a few yards from the recoil. The torpedoes rocketed towards the enemy. Before they could react the projectiles slammed into them, ripping apart the Bow Men class suits.

Leo raised his OEW and fired. The ruby beam stabbed into the leg of an enemy and caused it to topple onto its side. Immediately more OEW fire covered the fallen foe. The MS spread its limbs wide as if in pain before flame engulfed it.

The Bow- Men fired their laser guns, taking down two Sea Wolves and damaging six others. Leo and the other members of the Shark jetted their mobile suits backwards, away from the enemy formation.

The coastal guard warriors advanced eagerly, easily fooled by the Shark's feint.

As the Bow- Men neared the warriors wheeled their suits about to face them, guns blazing. More torpedoes streaked towards the enemy, their bubbling trails bracketed by crimson fire from the OEW guns.

One particularly daring guard pilot leaped towards the opposition. Leo fired and ripped a jagged wound through the Bow- Men's leg. The enemy suit returned fire, melting away armor on the right shoulder of Leo's Sea Wolf.

In the ocean water the melted armor cooled quickly, leaving large globs of armor on the suit's forearm.

Leo shook his head in dispair. Though outgunning the enemy suits, they were hopelessly outnumbered. _Where are the blasted Sohei?!_

Though it pained him greatly, for it went against everything that had made the Shark what it was, a brutal, unrelenting force that would stop at nothing for a victory.

Leo ordered his warriors to retreat back to the compound.

"What?" called out one of the officers, "Retreat?!"

"You heard me, fall back into the compound immediately!"

The voice that came back through the speakers in his helmet was subdued slightly, "Yes, sir."

Leo paced angrily in front of his computer, the face of Nurame Kaga watching his shuttle between the two points on the carpet. 

"Kaga, where in the hell are the Sohei? My men were totally outnumbered and we weren't even able to get out of the water!" Leo snapped irritably.

Nurame stroked his beard, "The Sohei were pinned down in a storm. They can't mobilize at all. They are fanatical, but even the most devoted would not brave a taifun."

Leo growled and stopped pacing, facing Nurame, "How long will the typhoon last?"

Nurame shrugged, "Less than a day, but it will take them a few hours to clean up their suits, the storm is not good for them you know."

"I am under siege, Nurame! If the Sohei cannot make it on time, send another unit!"

"I cannot. Three of my regiments are taking in part in the operation to free Chang Wufei II. The rest are needed to guard my HQ."

"You are a fool to thank you can free Wufei, he is in the most heavily guarded facility in the earth sphere!" Leo spat.

Nurame grinned slightly, "We shall see," he replied.

"And as far as I know that spy Miro and Helmut did nothing to sabotage the enemy!"

"Helmut attempted but his cover was blown and he was forced to retreat. I don't know about Miro, but-wait there's a message coming from him."

With a few stroke Nurame patched Miro through to the conversation, splitting Leo's screen across the center lengthwise. Miro had his balaclava on, and his gray eyes glistened.

"Forgive me Leo, I was not able to sabotage the enemy because one of my spies gave me this information: There is an assassin stalking you, Leo, and he is ready to make his kill."

Leo did not seem fazed by Miro's news, "Where is he, Sirkonov?" snapped Leo.

"In your compound," he replied, his eyes betraying no sympathy for the pilot.

Leo gulped visibly.

"I have his photo, here," Miro uploaded a picture of a young man wearing a black and red jump suit, with blond hair and blue eyes.

"Just wait here, Sandra, I've got to find Leo."

The girl shook her head, "Geez Quasim you're sweating like a pig."

"You know I hate the water," he replied sheepishly.

"Yeah, well-" "There he is!"

Quasim turned, reaching for his gun at the sound of the menacing voice. Before he could register what was going on a man dressed in a sea blue uniform raised a pistol and fired. His aim was low and it struck Quasim in the hip, cracking his pelvic bone in several places.

As the young man gasped in pain, another soldier with a rifle ran forward, and with a viscous scowl on his face, clubbed Quasim with the butt of his weapon.

"So this is our assassin," Leo began, steepleing his fingers as a pair of guards entered, dragging the wounded Quasim with them. He looked at the man's face and suddenly realized who he was.

He turned to his computer and yelled, "What are you trying to do, Miro?!" 

"What?" the spy asked back in an innocent tone.

"That picture is Quasim Winner, he's a pilot I was trying to recruit. Obviously your spy is very mislead!"

"Impossible, I trust that man with my life! Someone must have changed the picture!" Miro said quickly.

"Who, a hacker?"

Miro shook his head, "Does it matter, Leo? The assassin is still alive and in the compound, you've got to find him or you'll be dead in a few minutes.

Leo shuddered, something he did not often do.

A guard stood over the body of a small man, garbed in black with what appeared to be a telescope attached to his right eye. Gripped tightly in his hand was a powerful pistol, a .357 Magnum, capable of tearing rather large holes into the human body.

A smattering of blood on the walls showed that the assassin was dead, but in his state of slight panic Leo could have sworn he saw the body twitch a couple of times.

The guard grinned, "Smart little devil, but I finally got him!" he stated happily. Leo again thought he saw movement. With a roar he snatched the guard's gun from his hands and opened fire, pumping lead rounds into the back of the assassin.

Blood smeared on his face, Leo looked at the men and women of the Shark staring agape at him, but quickly returning to their duties, fearing that his anger would be directed towards them.

He took a few deep breaths and dropped the gun, sighing deeply, he retreated from the hangar where his would be killer had met his fate

Chang Wufei II cursed his brother for the thousandth time since his imprisonment. _How dare he put me in this place, to slave away at the chain gang!_

"Prisoner 24601!" yelled out one of the wardens.

A guard unchained Wufei and led him over to the warden.

"You are wanted in the chapel."

Wufei nodded and headed over to the rickety chapel. As he entered a black robed monk stood at the altar, his hands folded into his robe.

As the man turned Wufei instantly recognized his old friend and mentor, Nurame Kaga, but he made no sign of it.

The 'monk' came forward, speaking softly as if asking for the man's confession, he thrust a note into Wufei's hands.

"Go with God, my son," Nurame muttered, crossing himself and walking out the chapel, his habit billowing.

Wufei read the note and his face brightened immediately.

Quasim opened his eyes as the sound of a beeping heart monitor attacked his ears.

"Unnh," he moaned, his vision foggy. It took him a moment to realize where he was.

He shook his head as the constant beeping continued. _That is the last sound I wanted to hear._

Slowly his vision became clear, revealing Sandra perched on the edge of his bed. "Well looks like you finally decided to wake up!" she piped happily.

He moaned again. "What the hell happened?" he asked.

"It's real complicated, so I guess I'll make it simple. Leo got a message that said you were an assassin, somebody switched the pictures around. Leo's guards shot you and when he realized with was a scam they got the real guy."

"Leo's guards shot me?"

"Yeah," she said, managing a crooked smile.

He tried to move his right leg and a fiery pain shot through his body, "Ahh, damn that hurts!" he cried.

"Quasim, Leo said he was sorry and he's sending one of his junior officer's to take care of us."

"Do you trust him, because right now I don't," he murmured.

"Me neither," she said.

"You have plenty of reason to trust him."

Sandra jumped as a man about 5' 10'' entered. He wore a pair of shorts and a red shirt and had what appeared to be scars from laser wounds on his arms. His chin was covered with a small case of acne and his blue eyes sparkled with alertness. His hair, neither Quasim nor Sandra could decide on what to call it. On the sides, a few flashes of gold appeared, but the top of his head was dark brown, almost black.

"I am Mikhail Polchin and I have been assigned to safeguard both of you, and also to enlighten you on how the Shark functions as a military unit."

Quasim noticed the silver bar that denoted the man as a 1st Lieutenant.

"First of all I'd like to apologize on behalf of the Shark and Colonel Posavatz. You're wounding was the cause of a hacker and Miro, the head of the spy organization, the Bat, has already sought out the traitor and eliminated him."

"It's all right," Sandra said quickly Quasim could say anything.

He shot her a glare and she shrugged.

Mikhail nodded, "We can begin right away, or you two can have some time to yourselves," the Lieutenant bit his lip to keep from breaking out in laughter.

Quasim's eyes went wide, "What? Now listen up buddy, you don't understand," Quasim answered.

"Maybe I don't understand," he interrupted with a shrug and a chuckle, "but I've got oh, six years to figure it out."

"Huh?" Quasim and Sandra chorused.

Mikhail shrugged again, "I'm only twelve."

"What?!" they both cried out.

"Get ready, I need to give you the nickel tour," he said. With a wink he disappeared around the doorway.

Sandra helped Quasim into the wheelchair the doctors had given him. As she wheeled it out, Quasim looked Mikhail over, "No way in hell are you twelve."

Mikhail laughed allowed, flexing his arm to reveal some muscles rippling underneath his shirt. "Yeah, I hear that a lot," he chuckled pulling a hand through his hair. _This damn dandruff! _He thought as the tiny white flakes fell from his scalp.

"What about your hair?" Sandra asked. His face reddened, "No, I mean that," she said, pointing to a colic on the front right of his hair. It looked almost like a breaker on the ocean, making his head asymmetrical. He laughed again, "Natural, comes from my grandfather."

"How can you be 12 and be a 1st Lieutenant?"

Mikhail shrugged, "I just love to fly a mobile suit, just what I love to do."

"Okay, here's the mobile suit ops, I'm going to inform you about all the suits that the Shark and its allies use, so pay close attention."

Mikhail stabbed at the console and a holographic display of a sleek looking MS with a gun barrel replacing its left arm. 

"This is a Sea Wolf, the primary MS used by the Shark. Its shoulders house a large amount of homing torpedoes, and the Omni Environmental Weapon can be used anywhere. The torpedo racks are modular and can be swapped quickly with rockets depending on the battlefield."

He clicked in another command and a massive looking MS dominated the room. In its hands it held two large blaster rifles with energy packs attached to them. Tanks of laser fuel clustered around it in a belt to give additional power to the lasers. On the collar encircling its neck were rapid-fire miniguns, and the belt feed dangled well past its knees.

"The Leviathan, the most powerful suit that we field. We only have a squadron of them, so we use them sparingly. It works well in both land and water, but in hot temperatures its lasers can malfunction. The lasers themselves have been designed to slice through any known armor, with the exception of gundanium. We couldn't find any to test."

As the gargantuan form disappeared a much smaller one took its place. It had shark fin like pieces of armor where vulcan gatlings had been housed. It appeared to have no other armament. "This is a Stingray, scout suit that operates in the water. It's extremely fast and can out run most CHMS forces. The vulcan cannons are effective against other suits about its size, but otherwise it's good as dead."

An MS with arms that ended in cylindrical barrels that had hoses running back to a pack on its back. "This is a Prometheus, the only land based suit that we have. It's armed with flame-throwers powered by napalm. Its main weakness is the lack of armor on the napalm tank, one shot there and the whole works goes up in flames. Still it's powerful, and can melt the armor of off most opponents, though it lacks the direct fire to take them out completely."

"Last but not least is the Neptune. It's armed with a beam trident and has a large turbine on its left arm. It's designed to take control of the waves and use it against the enemy. I have never thought that it was an effective design, but many warriors swear by it."

Mikhail continued to go through the list of enemy suits and vehicles. When he was done, the holographic display shrank away into the projector and Mikhail walked down the hall, "Come on, its time to meet Leo."

Murasame grunted as his booted foot connected with the grenade that had been hurled at him. As the deadly projectile flew towards the soldier that had thrown it, Murasame ran for cover behind a crate.

He slipping on a pool of water, his fingers latching onto the edge of the crate. His legs pedaled in a vain attempt to regain his balance, the grenade's fuse ticking off in his head. _Three, two, one!_

Murasame gasped as searing hot metal pierced his calf. "Stop jerking around and get up here!" Katsuhiro yelled down at him from his perch.

"Shut your hole," growled Murasame as he painfully leapt up to catch hold of the ladder. Katsuhiro grabbed his comrade by the wrist and pulled him up to the platform.

"Come on we've got to hurry, the Chopper's LZ is just half a click away," Katsuhiro said, waving his hand off to the east.

Murasame nodded as he applied pressure to where the grenade fragments had hit his leg.

Both he and Katsuhiro had suffered a few minor injuries. Katsuhiro had taken a bullet to his upper arm, but luckily it had passed straight through his arm and not done any damage to his bone.

Chang Sun-Tzu, on the other hand, had suffered no wounds whatsoever. The soldiers sent to eliminate the Wolf operatives appeared to be crack shots, perhaps even the infamous Urban Lancers, but they wore no markings, and even if they did, neither Katsuhiro or Murasame wanted to get close enough to find out.

Murasame opened his mouth to speak but Katsuhiro quickly silenced him. They heard the crunching of gravel as a person walked over it.

Katsuhiro pulled back the hammer on his gun and placed the barrel on Sun-Tzu's head. The message was clear, "Make one sound and you die."

As the form of a soldier peeked up over the top of the building, Murasame shouldered his sniper rifle, taking careful aim for the left side of the man's chest.

The tightly woven kevlar fibers stopped the bullet short on its deadly path. The soldier stumbled backward from the force, but quickly recovered and called his comrades over.

Murasame side- stepped out of their line of sight, thankful that he had his silencer.

Katsuhiro removed a satchel charge from his belt and tossed it to Murasame. The smaller warrior caught the deadly package and strapped it to his own belt. He moved slowly up the ladder, listening intently for any sign that the soldiers above had heard him. 

As he neared the roof, Murasame eased the satchel charge onto the ledge, slowly making his descent, hoping that the soldiers would not notice the deadly pack of explosives.

He reached the platform where Katsuhiro waited, and hit the button on the remote detonator.

There was a cry of horror from above as mortar and concrete pelted the platform above the trio.

Murasame scrambled up the ladder, closing his eyes against the dust from the explosion.

There was a soldier stumbling about drunkenly, wounded in the chest with severe burns on his forearm as well.

Murasame aimed and fired, the bullet hitting the soldier in the cheek. The skin peeled away and blood spewed everywhere as the soldier cried out in agony and fell to the ground.

He motioned for Katsuhiro to follow and the huge man dragged Sun-Tzu along with him.

"Here's the extraction point, where's the chopper?" Murasame wondered aloud.

Katsuhiro checked his watch, "Late," he growled.

As if on que the whirr of rotor blades pierced the night air and mist from the earlier ran showered down on Katsuhiro.

The helicopter nosed forward then leveled out to land, hovering about thirty feet off the ground.

Katsuhiro noticed the chopper's markings too late.

"Run!" he yelled, shoving Murasame and Sun-Tzu in the direction of cover.

The door slid open and over a dozen soldier's garbed in urban camo leapt out, guns blazing. Katsuhiro slid across the wet building top and snatched up an MP5 from the hands of a fallen soldier.

He fired and one soldier went down, rocking backwards and falling back, off the building.

Murasame pulled the bolt back on his rifle, then slowly eased himself out of cover as to not draw attention to himself. He fired and crimson appeared on his target's chest.

Another chopper roared over head, this time hovering so it could see the trio.

And it was armed.

Hellfire missiles streaked from the apache attack copter, sending soldier's flying into the air.

As the Apache broke off, a Hind attack helicopter swooped in low, opening its passenger doors to admit the pair. Already there were several other operatives of the Wolf in it, including Renard.

The pair sprinted for it, Katsuhiro tugging Sun-Tzu fiercely to keep up.

Murasame leapt the last few yards and landed squarely in the compartment, Katsuhiro followed as the Hind began to lift off.

Sun-Tzu could not be pulled and Katsuhiro held him by the wrists as the chopper flew low over the rooftops.

__


	5. Confusion

****

Confusion

"Tai-i Uesugi! Are you there?" Mark Adams' voice blared through

the external speakers on his Montezuma.

Tai-i Tadamune Uesugi emerged from the cockpit, his face covered his soot and his mouth dry. When he saw his leader, Mark raised his mobile suit's hand in salute and Tadamune returned the gesture.

As Chu-i Mark Adams' cockpit slid open, Tadamune advanced. The junior officer was covered in sweat, his flight suit soaked through completely. _They must have panicked when I broke off. Or the heat controllers in their mobile suits are broken or malfunctioning…_

Knowing Mark, Tadamune believed the latter to be true. "What happened?" Tadamune asked.

Mark motioned towards the street, "I got the enemy Hummer on the street. Some of the rebels escaped but they've dispatched infantry to take them out."

Tadamune nodded and noticed Mark fidgeting with the silver band on his third finger. "Excellent work Chu-i. That kill as well as your time of service here may well allow you for a few weeks of leave."

Mark grinned from ear to ear, "Thank you, sir."

He nodded as he walked towards the military truck that was pulling up to take him back to HQ to be debriefed. "Put in your request as soon as possible. But you will be on call, you may be needed at any moment, so be ready."

The grin did not change as Mark saluted Tadamune, "Thanks again, Tai-I!" he practically shouted.

Tadamune returned the salute and turned sharply on his heel, heading for the truck were a pair of armed guards waited to take him to his 'debriefing'.

"But dad!" Quasim Winner cried out in annoyance at his father, who stood pacing about in front of him.

"No, for the third time, NO. You can't join the resistance, it's to dangerous."

Quasim sighed in exasperation, waving a sheet of paper in front of his father, "But look, the Shark wants me in their group, they know that I'm good in an MS and they want me in on the action. I can't turn my back on this dad! We could end the Hegemony aggression and lift the tariffs that have been hampering you!"

Quasim thought he saw his father perk up a little, but the man quickly hid his expression and put a scowl on his face, "No, I will not have the heir to the Winner fortune become a radical terrorist against the Hegemony."

The young man exploded suddenly, "God dammit I don't want to be the heir to the corporation! I don't know a damn thing about running it. All my life I've wanted to be a MS pilot, and I am and always will. I and will never, never be some stuffy corporate executive that sits behind a damned desk all day!"

The older man's eyes became large, "You disgraceful brat! No son of mine would say such a thing!"

Quasim felt no love for his father, only hatred that he had kept inside him for seventeen years. Shaking his head slowly, he uttered, "Go to hell, President Winner."

He said the word president as if it stung his lips to speak it, and without any final gesture he turned and stalked away from his father, vowing to never return.

Quasim's snoring was interrupted by a pounding on the hatch of his MS. The Saracen assault suit was gargantuan and armed to the teeth. The weapons system was so complex that is required two people to man it, one pilot, and the other manning the radio guided missile systems and monitoring the radar and operating the extensive jamming equipment.

He shook his head vigorously to clear it and opened the hatch.

A tall young woman entered, wearing the same red and black, tight fitting jump suit that Quasim did. The only difference was the stylized patch of the Maganac Corps on Quasim's suit was ripped off, a patch sewn onto the jagged rip.

"Something wrong, Quasim?" she asked.

The blonde haired pilot snorted, "Does it look like something is wrong?" he answered sarcastically.

A small smile creeped over her features, "You did a pretty lousy job on that sewing," she pointed out, motioning to his shoulder.

Quasim shrugged and a few threads popped free. He tried to remain serious but he broke into a grin, "Dammit Cassandra I can never keep as straight face around you."

Cassandra Fletcher smirked and leaned against the doorframe of the Saracen's hatch, "So what's up?" she asked, pointing towards where the Maganac symbol had once graced Quasim's shoulder.

Quasim shrugged again, trying to make light of the situation, "I told my father that I didn't want to be the heir of the Corporation."

Her jaw dropped, "You didn't."

"I did, dammit!" Quasim snapped and he saw hurt flash through her eyes. Quasim had never lashed out at her, or anyone else as far as she knew, before.

"Sorry, but I've been pretty testy lately, trying to get my dad to let me join the resistance and all. He wouldn't let me so I ran away."

"You don't expect me to come with you, do you?" she asked hesitantly.

Quasim nodded, "Well, yeah."

Cassandra chuckled, "Why?"

"Because you're my friend and you hate the Hegemony as much as I do."

She shook her head. _It's more than that Quasim._

She brushed a wisp of dark brown hair away and her green eyes sparkled, "Okay then, where do we start?"

Quasim sighed, "Thanks Sandra, thanks a lot."

Cassandra sat in the chair behind and to his right, swiveling it so she could access the controls on the mapping system. "So where to?" she repeated, keying in a map of the earth.

"Head for the south Pacific, the Shark's base is there, and tell the computer to notify me when we are five kilometers from the base, the Hegemony has troops guarding it."

"Yes sir!" she replied with mock seriousness, addressing him with the term that he hated.

He shook his head. However hard he tried he could not get angry at the beautiful woman, "Shut up Sandra," he replied in an unconvincing tone.

Leo Posavatz held the controls of his MS tightly. The primary mobile suits of the Shark, the Sea Wolf, was a medium sized suit armed with both land and sea weaponry.

Housed in the boxy shoulders were torpedoes, fifty of them, designed to take out enemy flag ships. Its left arm ended in the muzzle of the Omni Environmental Weapon. The OEW was a powerful rifle that could function in any environment, from the blistering Sahara desert to the vacuum of outer space.

He adjusted the chinstrap of his helmet and then clicked down the visor. As the targeting reticule flashed in the center of his viewplate, Leo, flicked a series of switches that started the reactor running.

As the Sea Wolf rose, the ocean swirling about it, the hundreds of other mobile suits did the same. Sand rose in thick clouds as the legions of MS's pounded a few steps forward. As the dust settled Leo opened the commlink to all the warriors, "Leo here, prepare to break the surf-" his command was cut off as his Sea Wolf was shook by the pounding vibrations of suits diving below the water.

_Damn, the coastal guards are attacking!_

"Fall back! Defensive positions, all troops fall back!" he yelled as laser fire raked through the watery battlefield.

Next to him a golden laser beam sliced into another Sea Wolf, separating the suit's torso from its legs.

Leo turned and crouched his Sea Wolf, laser fire raining down on the Shark formations. On his display brackets surrounded five enemy suits, and the message TORPEDOE LOCK flashed on the right half of his viewplate.

He hit the two buttons with his thumb and his MS was carried backward a few yards from the recoil. The torpedoes rocketed towards the enemy. Before they could react the projectiles slammed into them, ripping apart the Bow Men class suits.

Leo raised his OEW and fired. The ruby beam stabbed into the leg of an enemy and caused it to topple onto its side. Immediately more OEW fire covered the fallen foe. The MS spread its limbs wide as if in pain before flame engulfed it.

The Bow- Men fired their laser guns, taking down two Sea Wolves and damaging six others. Leo and the other members of the Shark jetted their mobile suits backwards, away from the enemy formation.

The coastal guard warriors advanced eagerly, easily fooled by the Shark's feint.

As the Bow- Men neared the warriors wheeled their suits about to face them, guns blazing. More torpedoes streaked towards the enemy, their bubbling trails bracketed by crimson fire from the OEW guns.

One particularly daring guard pilot leaped towards the opposition. Leo fired and ripped a jagged wound through the Bow- Men's leg. The enemy suit returned fire, melting away armor on the right shoulder of Leo's Sea Wolf.

In the ocean water the melted armor cooled quickly, leaving large globs of armor on the suit's forearm.

Leo shook his head in dispair. Though outgunning the enemy suits, they were hopelessly outnumbered. _Where are the blasted Sohei?!_

Though it pained him greatly, for it went against everything that had made the Shark what it was, a brutal, unrelenting force that would stop at nothing for a victory.

Leo ordered his warriors to retreat back to the compound.

"What?" called out one of the officers, "Retreat?!"

"You heard me, fall back into the compound immediately!"

The voice that came back through the speakers in his helmet was subdued slightly, "Yes, sir."

Leo paced angrily in front of his computer, the face of Nurame Kaga watching his shuttle between the two points on the carpet. 

"Kaga, where in the hell are the Sohei? My men were totally outnumbered and we weren't even able to get out of the water!" Leo snapped irritably.

Nurame stroked his beard, "The Sohei were pinned down in a storm. They can't mobilize at all. They are fanatical, but even the most devoted would not brave a taifun."

Leo growled and stopped pacing, facing Nurame, "How long will the typhoon last?"

Nurame shrugged, "Less than a day, but it will take them a few hours to clean up their suits, the storm is not good for them you know."

"I am under siege, Nurame! If the Sohei cannot make it on time, send another unit!"

"I cannot. Three of my regiments are taking in part in the operation to free Chang Wufei II. The rest are needed to guard my HQ."

"You are a fool to thank you can free Wufei, he is in the most heavily guarded facility in the earth sphere!" Leo spat.

Nurame grinned slightly, "We shall see," he replied.

"And as far as I know that spy Miro and Helmut did nothing to sabotage the enemy!"

"Helmut attempted but his cover was blown and he was forced to retreat. I don't know about Miro, but-wait there's a message coming from him."

With a few stroke Nurame patched Miro through to the conversation, splitting Leo's screen across the center lengthwise. Miro had his balaclava on, and his gray eyes glistened.

"Forgive me Leo, I was not able to sabotage the enemy because one of my spies gave me this information: There is an assassin stalking you, Leo, and he is ready to make his kill."

Leo did not seem fazed by Miro's news, "Where is he, Sirkonov?" snapped Leo.

"In your compound," he replied, his eyes betraying no sympathy for the pilot.

Leo gulped visibly.

"I have his photo, here," Miro uploaded a picture of a young man wearing a black and red jump suit, with blond hair and blue eyes.

"Just wait here, Sandra, I've got to find Leo."

The girl shook her head, "Geez Quasim you're sweating like a pig."

"You know I hate the water," he replied sheepishly.

"Yeah, well-" "There he is!"

Quasim turned, reaching for his gun at the sound of the menacing voice. Before he could register what was going on a man dressed in a sea blue uniform raised a pistol and fired. His aim was low and it struck Quasim in the hip, cracking his pelvic bone in several places.

As the young man gasped in pain, another soldier with a rifle ran forward, and with a viscous scowl on his face, clubbed Quasim with the butt of his weapon.

"So this is our assassin," Leo began, steepleing his fingers as a pair of guards entered, dragging the wounded Quasim with them. He looked at the man's face and suddenly realized who he was.

He turned to his computer and yelled, "What are you trying to do, Miro?!" 

"What?" the spy asked back in an innocent tone.

"That picture is Quasim Winner, he's a pilot I was trying to recruit. Obviously your spy is very mislead!"

"Impossible, I trust that man with my life! Someone must have changed the picture!" Miro said quickly.

"Who, a hacker?"

Miro shook his head, "Does it matter, Leo? The assassin is still alive and in the compound, you've got to find him or you'll be dead in a few minutes.

Leo shuddered, something he did not often do.

A guard stood over the body of a small man, garbed in black with what appeared to be a telescope attached to his right eye. Gripped tightly in his hand was a powerful pistol, a .357 Magnum, capable of tearing rather large holes into the human body.

A smattering of blood on the walls showed that the assassin was dead, but in his state of slight panic Leo could have sworn he saw the body twitch a couple of times.

The guard grinned, "Smart little devil, but I finally got him!" he stated happily. Leo again thought he saw movement. With a roar he snatched the guard's gun from his hands and opened fire, pumping lead rounds into the back of the assassin.

Blood smeared on his face, Leo looked at the men and women of the Shark staring agape at him, but quickly returning to their duties, fearing that his anger would be directed towards them.

He took a few deep breaths and dropped the gun, sighing deeply, he retreated from the hangar where his would be killer had met his fate

Chang Wufei II cursed his brother for the thousandth time since his imprisonment. _How dare he put me in this place, to slave away at the chain gang!_

"Prisoner 24601!" yelled out one of the wardens.

A guard unchained Wufei and led him over to the warden.

"You are wanted in the chapel."

Wufei nodded and headed over to the rickety chapel. As he entered a black robed monk stood at the altar, his hands folded into his robe.

As the man turned Wufei instantly recognized his old friend and mentor, Nurame Kaga, but he made no sign of it.

The 'monk' came forward, speaking softly as if asking for the man's confession, he thrust a note into Wufei's hands.

"Go with God, my son," Nurame muttered, crossing himself and walking out the chapel, his habit billowing.

Wufei read the note and his face brightened immediately.

Quasim opened his eyes as the sound of a beeping heart monitor attacked his ears.

"Unnh," he moaned, his vision foggy. It took him a moment to realize where he was.

He shook his head as the constant beeping continued. _That is the last sound I wanted to hear._

Slowly his vision became clear, revealing Sandra perched on the edge of his bed. "Well looks like you finally decided to wake up!" she piped happily.

He moaned again. "What the hell happened?" he asked.

"It's real complicated, so I guess I'll make it simple. Leo got a message that said you were an assassin, somebody switched the pictures around. Leo's guards shot you and when he realized with was a scam they got the real guy."

"Leo's guards shot me?"

"Yeah," she said, managing a crooked smile.

He tried to move his right leg and a fiery pain shot through his body, "Ahh, damn that hurts!" he cried.

"Quasim, Leo said he was sorry and he's sending one of his junior officer's to take care of us."

"Do you trust him, because right now I don't," he murmured.

"Me neither," she said.

"You have plenty of reason to trust him."

Sandra jumped as a man about 5' 10'' entered. He wore a pair of shorts and a red shirt and had what appeared to be scars from laser wounds on his arms. His chin was covered with a small case of acne and his blue eyes sparkled with alertness. His hair, neither Quasim nor Sandra could decide on what to call it. On the sides, a few flashes of gold appeared, but the top of his head was dark brown, almost black.

"I am Mikhail Polchin and I have been assigned to safeguard both of you, and also to enlighten you on how the Shark functions as a military unit."

Quasim noticed the silver bar that denoted the man as a 1st Lieutenant.

"First of all I'd like to apologize on behalf of the Shark and Colonel Posavatz. You're wounding was the cause of a hacker and Miro, the head of the spy organization, the Bat, has already sought out the traitor and eliminated him."

"It's all right," Sandra said quickly Quasim could say anything.

He shot her a glare and she shrugged.

Mikhail nodded, "We can begin right away, or you two can have some time to yourselves," the Lieutenant bit his lip to keep from breaking out in laughter.

Quasim's eyes went wide, "What? Now listen up buddy, you don't understand," Quasim answered.

"Maybe I don't understand," he interrupted with a shrug and a chuckle, "but I've got oh, six years to figure it out."

"Huh?" Quasim and Sandra chorused.

Mikhail shrugged again, "I'm only twelve."

"What?!" they both cried out.

"Get ready, I need to give you the nickel tour," he said. With a wink he disappeared around the doorway.

Sandra helped Quasim into the wheelchair the doctors had given him. As she wheeled it out, Quasim looked Mikhail over, "No way in hell are you twelve."

Mikhail laughed allowed, flexing his arm to reveal some muscles rippling underneath his shirt. "Yeah, I hear that a lot," he chuckled pulling a hand through his hair. _This damn dandruff! _He thought as the tiny white flakes fell from his scalp.

"What about your hair?" Sandra asked. His face reddened, "No, I mean that," she said, pointing to a colic on the front right of his hair. It looked almost like a breaker on the ocean, making his head asymmetrical. He laughed again, "Natural, comes from my grandfather."

"How can you be 12 and be a 1st Lieutenant?"

Mikhail shrugged, "I just love to fly a mobile suit, just what I love to do."

"Okay, here's the mobile suit ops, I'm going to inform you about all the suits that the Shark and its allies use, so pay close attention."

Mikhail stabbed at the console and a holographic display of a sleek looking MS with a gun barrel replacing its left arm. 

"This is a Sea Wolf, the primary MS used by the Shark. Its shoulders house a large amount of homing torpedoes, and the Omni Environmental Weapon can be used anywhere. The torpedo racks are modular and can be swapped quickly with rockets depending on the battlefield."

He clicked in another command and a massive looking MS dominated the room. In its hands it held two large blaster rifles with energy packs attached to them. Tanks of laser fuel clustered around it in a belt to give additional power to the lasers. On the collar encircling its neck were rapid-fire miniguns, and the belt feed dangled well past its knees.

"The Leviathan, the most powerful suit that we field. We only have a squadron of them, so we use them sparingly. It works well in both land and water, but in hot temperatures its lasers can malfunction. The lasers themselves have been designed to slice through any known armor, with the exception of gundanium. We couldn't find any to test."

As the gargantuan form disappeared a much smaller one took its place. It had shark fin like pieces of armor where vulcan gatlings had been housed. It appeared to have no other armament. "This is a Stingray, scout suit that operates in the water. It's extremely fast and can out run most CHMS forces. The vulcan cannons are effective against other suits about its size, but otherwise it's good as dead."

An MS with arms that ended in cylindrical barrels that had hoses running back to a pack on its back. "This is a Prometheus, the only land based suit that we have. It's armed with flame-throwers powered by napalm. Its main weakness is the lack of armor on the napalm tank, one shot there and the whole works goes up in flames. Still it's powerful, and can melt the armor of off most opponents, though it lacks the direct fire to take them out completely."

"Last but not least is the Neptune. It's armed with a beam trident and has a large turbine on its left arm. It's designed to take control of the waves and use it against the enemy. I have never thought that it was an effective design, but many warriors swear by it."

Mikhail continued to go through the list of enemy suits and vehicles. When he was done, the holographic display shrank away into the projector and Mikhail walked down the hall, "Come on, its time to meet Leo."

Murasame grunted as his booted foot connected with the grenade that had been hurled at him. As the deadly projectile flew towards the soldier that had thrown it, Murasame ran for cover behind a crate.

He slipping on a pool of water, his fingers latching onto the edge of the crate. His legs pedaled in a vain attempt to regain his balance, the grenade's fuse ticking off in his head. _Three, two, one!_

Murasame gasped as searing hot metal pierced his calf. "Stop jerking around and get up here!" Katsuhiro yelled down at him from his perch.

"Shut your hole," growled Murasame as he painfully leapt up to catch hold of the ladder. Katsuhiro grabbed his comrade by the wrist and pulled him up to the platform.

"Come on we've got to hurry, the Chopper's LZ is just half a click away," Katsuhiro said, waving his hand off to the east.

Murasame nodded as he applied pressure to where the grenade fragments had hit his leg.

Both he and Katsuhiro had suffered a few minor injuries. Katsuhiro had taken a bullet to his upper arm, but luckily it had passed straight through his arm and not done any damage to his bone.

Chang Sun-Tzu, on the other hand, had suffered no wounds whatsoever. The soldiers sent to eliminate the Wolf operatives appeared to be crack shots, perhaps even the infamous Urban Lancers, but they wore no markings, and even if they did, neither Katsuhiro or Murasame wanted to get close enough to find out.

Murasame opened his mouth to speak but Katsuhiro quickly silenced him. They heard the crunching of gravel as a person walked over it.

Katsuhiro pulled back the hammer on his gun and placed the barrel on Sun-Tzu's head. The message was clear, "Make one sound and you die."

As the form of a soldier peeked up over the top of the building, Murasame shouldered his sniper rifle, taking careful aim for the left side of the man's chest.

The tightly woven kevlar fibers stopped the bullet short on its deadly path. The soldier stumbled backward from the force, but quickly recovered and called his comrades over.

Murasame side- stepped out of their line of sight, thankful that he had his silencer.

Katsuhiro removed a satchel charge from his belt and tossed it to Murasame. The smaller warrior caught the deadly package and strapped it to his own belt. He moved slowly up the ladder, listening intently for any sign that the soldiers above had heard him. 

As he neared the roof, Murasame eased the satchel charge onto the ledge, slowly making his descent, hoping that the soldiers would not notice the deadly pack of explosives.

He reached the platform where Katsuhiro waited, and hit the button on the remote detonator.

There was a cry of horror from above as mortar and concrete pelted the platform above the trio.

Murasame scrambled up the ladder, closing his eyes against the dust from the explosion.

There was a soldier stumbling about drunkenly, wounded in the chest with severe burns on his forearm as well.

Murasame aimed and fired, the bullet hitting the soldier in the cheek. The skin peeled away and blood spewed everywhere as the soldier cried out in agony and fell to the ground.

He motioned for Katsuhiro to follow and the huge man dragged Sun-Tzu along with him.

"Here's the extraction point, where's the chopper?" Murasame wondered aloud.

Katsuhiro checked his watch, "Late," he growled.

As if on que the whirr of rotor blades pierced the night air and mist from the earlier ran showered down on Katsuhiro.

The helicopter nosed forward then leveled out to land, hovering about thirty feet off the ground.

Katsuhiro noticed the chopper's markings too late.

"Run!" he yelled, shoving Murasame and Sun-Tzu in the direction of cover.

The door slid open and over a dozen soldier's garbed in urban camo leapt out, guns blazing. Katsuhiro slid across the wet building top and snatched up an MP5 from the hands of a fallen soldier.

He fired and one soldier went down, rocking backwards and falling back, off the building.

Murasame pulled the bolt back on his rifle, then slowly eased himself out of cover as to not draw attention to himself. He fired and crimson appeared on his target's chest.

Another chopper roared over head, this time hovering so it could see the trio.

And it was armed.

Hellfire missiles streaked from the apache attack copter, sending soldier's flying into the air.

As the Apache broke off, a Hind attack helicopter swooped in low, opening its passenger doors to admit the pair. Already there were several other operatives of the Wolf in it, including Renard.

The pair sprinted for it, Katsuhiro tugging Sun-Tzu fiercely to keep up.

Murasame leapt the last few yards and landed squarely in the compartment, Katsuhiro followed as the Hind began to lift off.

Sun-Tzu could not be pulled and Katsuhiro held him by the wrists as the chopper flew low over the rooftops.

__


End file.
